


sidewinder

by OedipusOctopus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Genderfluid Asahi, Getting Together, M/M, could be taken as post time skip canon maybe, farmer kita, meet cute, pining kita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OedipusOctopus/pseuds/OedipusOctopus
Summary: Kita spies a beautiful stranger at the weekly farmer's market in town and can't quite get enough.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Kita Shinsuke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	sidewinder

**Author's Note:**

> this came to me in a dream and i finally wrote it during a particularly bad insomnia episode so,,, AsaKita,,,
> 
> title from [sidewinder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GVc-hxzjyjc&ab_channel=RudeRecords) by [stand atlantic](https://open.spotify.com/artist/1W2Fv4YUnjC8hx2qQd6fGh?si=r9BUFsnHRMiS-5fWGL8MaA) (back to stat titles lmao)

The first time he sees the stranger, the only thought that crosses his mind is  _ big. _

~~

The next time, he's not exactly prepared, but he's able to appreciate them this time. 

Yes, they're big, and so much more. They're big and broad, and they have a neat plait swept over their shoulder. The twisted hair tie at the end has a small flower charm connected to it by a small golden ring. A lotus, he thinks, with pastel petals and dainty details. 

Kita isn't small by the standard mean. He, too, is broad in shoulders and hips— maybe more broad in his hips than his 16 year old athlete self would have imagined him at age 32— but he feels rather like a glass marble in the palm of an aching hand compared to the extent of the stranger's presence at the melon stand.

This stranger, big and broad and beautiful, with the flowing skirt that nearly touches the ground and the softest looking sweater spun in colours of a watery sunset, takes his breath away. 

~~ 

It's foolish to wish upon someone the need for locally grown rice, he's more than aware. It's perhaps more foolish to spend an extra five minutes at his bathroom sink parting his hair just so with the knowledge that he's going to place his sun hat over the crown of his head anyway. 

Today the stranger is wearing a black and yellow flannel cuffed at the elbows and jeans cuffed at the ankle. Their shoulder bag has the print of a flag, pink, white, purple, black, indigo. 

Kita silently wishes upon the stranger happiness as they leave the market with a pride bag full to the brim, and also an empty rice packet upon their safe return home. 

~~ 

It's a terrible day. 

Apparently the fridge gave out at some point during the night, as he poured a glass of morning cottage cheese instead of morning milk. Isabelle, the bastard of a farm cat that she is, left a lovely half eaten rat in his shoes. And of course, his truck wouldn't start this morning and his neighbor was in town, so he had to wait nearly an hour to get a jumpstart. 

Kita hasn't the mental energy by now to have thought about the lovely stranger, not on the drive to the market and not as he rushes to set up his usual booth in the far corner of the field three hours later than normal. 

The kind old man Matsui gives him a half smile and a wave from his citrus booth across the way, and Kita politely nods his head. 

"I was starting to wonder if something happened to you." 

The deep rumble of a voice so obviously crafted solely to rattle Kita's core makes him look up sharply from the stacks of rice bags piled at his feet, and all the air in his lungs leaves his body in a quiet rush of breath past his too-dry lips. 

“Oh, um.” The stranger shifts their weight to their left foot, cocking their hip in such a way that causes their skirt to rustle over their knee just so. “I-I didn’t mean to startle you. I just— I saw that you weren’t here, and you usually are on Saturdays, so…”

Kita blinks. Once. Twice. Ignores the way his heart suddenly picks up speed in his ribcage. “You noticed me.” Not quite a question, but a query all the same. 

A rosy flush, soft and warm against the stranger’s cheekbones, washes over their face. “Ah— yes. I guess I did.”

Kita looks on at the stranger standing in front of him, as big and broad and beautiful as ever with small wisps of hair falling from the messy bun piled atop their head. “What’s your name?” he asks, because it’s what he should. 

“Asahi,” the stranger says. The blush across their nose blooms a deeper pink, almost red. 

“I’m Kita Shinsuke,” he says, because it’s what he should. 

The stranger—  _ Asahi _ — smiles, and it’s nothing more than a small quirk of the outer corner of their lips, but Kita feels his palms start to sweat anyway.

He doesn’t know what he should say to fill the silence thickening the humid summer air between them.  _ I think you’re beautiful. If I learned how, could I braid your hair? Would you like to exchange phone numbers? Are you in need of rice? _

“Um—” Asahi speaks for him, and he’d be lying if he didn’t recognize the wash of relief spilling over his shoulders. “Would you— could I— I’m sorry if this is too forward, but, um.” They reach into their bag— the one with the pride flag Kita recently learn via internet search stands for genderfluidity— and pulls out a small piece of cardstock. Brushing a strand of hair the colour of tree branches behind their ear, Asahi slides the card over the both between them. “Please accept this.”

Kita reaches out for the offered card, reading over the text. 

_ Azumane Asahi.  _ _   
_ _ Apparel Designer, AZUMANE. _ __   
_ Based in Harajuku, Tokyo. _ _   
_ __ 03-XXXX-XXXX

Oh. 

Inexplicably his heartbeat picks up faster yet in his chest as he brushes the pad of his thumb over the embossed lettering. The gold looks elegant, clean against the stark black of the heavyweight paper. It suits them. Kita looks up, up, up at Asahi. “It isn’t too forward.”

The faint upward tilt of their lips exacerbates, a full smile stretching across Asahi’s face. Kita would quite like to press his fingers into their jawline, feel the way their muscles work as such a beautiful expression crosses their features. 

“I’m glad,” Asahi says quietly. 

Because he thinks he should, because it’s true, Kita says, “I’m glad, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope y'all enjoyed! <3 
> 
> come scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/OedipusOctopus)!
> 
> black lives matter. wear a mask. be kind to others.


End file.
